In my freshman year, I went to hang out with some kids from another school. There were four girls, including me, and five guys. We went to the rooftop of a building and sat around talking and playing drinking games. A couple hours into the night, at a point when we were all tipsy or more, one girl started acting strange. Let’s call her Sarah. She could barely walk and nothing she was saying made sense. But she was still laughing and seeming to have a good time, so we got her some water and shrugged it off. We were still a bit confused about how she could’ve gotten so drunk considering she had the same amount as the rest of us. “Probably just a lightweight,” one of the guys said. “Maybe she’s faking it,” another guy said.
Even though she stopped drinking and took the water, her condition got worse. Sarah’s words became even less coherent and she was throwing up everywhere. The rest of us became more concerned and talked to figure out what to do. Then, one of the girls said, “I think she has some kind of illness, like, I know she takes medication.” We all looked at her. How could you not have brought that up before?
Since, at this point, she couldn’t stand on her own, we picked her up and took her down to the taxi stand. We got in two taxis and went to her house. Her parents were visibly worried when they opened the door to see their delirious daughter carried by her friends. Yet they were kind, taking her in and thanking us for bringing her home. In the end, she turned out to be fine and it was likely a case of alcohol poisoning. Regardless, we were freaked out because it could’ve been much worse.